Only If For A Night
by SaffyM
Summary: 'As he climbed back into his own bed, itching to run back down the hall, back into her embrace, he cursed Peter Pan for the millionth time in his lifetime.'


**Well, I feel baad. **

**Started ANOTHER ****story, and not continued it.. well, GCSE's for ya. **

**But, here is a peace offering :3 **

**Anyways, started rewriting 'Neverland', and it's changed. a lot. sooo.**

**Also, anybody who's read Peter and Wendy, yaaay :3 I actually really love it, but I've had NO time to write. it's annoying. buuut, I finish school COMPLETELY in a few months, so all is well, and I will be writing and updating looots! **

**So, about this, I have no idea actually, it just popped into my head, and I've never seen a Slightly/Wendy story. EVER. So, decided to write this up which is titled 'Only If For A Night', cookies for anyone who guesses who the artist is ;3 **

**Probably can guess, this is '03 movie eraish, due to the fact Aunt Millicent is a character :')  
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**So, here you go! **

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><p>And there it was, that annoying sound.<p>

Slightly groaned, turning over in his bed that seemed even more cramped as he heard the sobs start again. He stilled, eyes blearily blinking up at the ceiling as he waited, waited for the sobs to die down, for her cries to stop.

They wouldn't though, they never did. Even in the day, when she was as silent as a mouse, he could see she was still crying, silently. It was the eyes-he had decided-, eyes that were the colour of cornflowers with lilac flecks, as wide as a doe's, that cried, even though years had passed, and it was quite obvious Peter Pan was never coming back.

Five years ago, he had been naive, and with child-like innocence had wished, waited and willed for him return with her. Then, as spring turned into summer, and as summer turned into autumn, Slightly realised Peter Pan wasn't coming back. But Wendy, she was something else.

He watched her mature- unwillingly so- from a young girl who thought herself in love, into a desirable young woman. Watched the suitors come and go, disheartened by her distant nature and childlike outlook on life, unable to bring her away from her stories and games.

She never gave up on the flying boy who would never grow up.

And Slightly hated it.

Ever since Wendy had moved in with Aunt Millicent and him two months ago- her parents last effort to bring the girl from her daydreaming stupor- he had to listen to her cries which no matter how much he wished them away continue on.

Sighing, Slightly pulled himself from the tight cocoon of his duvet, ran a hand through his hair and stumbled out of his bedroom and into the cold hallway. He shivered, feeling the cold through his lack of clothing, cotton pyjama bottoms with a thin shirt that barely counted as an article of clothing, and his bare feet.

He paused outside her door, two doors down the hall. Aunt Millicent was sleeping soundly, he could hear her snores from the opposite side of the hall. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut the door quietly behind him.

"Wendy," he whispered, feeling foolish stood by the door. He was a _Darling_, for God sake, if not by blood, by name. Puffing his chest out, he marched towards the bed, but stopped short when he gazed upon his (_notreallythough_) cousin.

She was tossing from side to side, her wavy dark hair spread around her head like a dark halo. Her creamy skin glistened with sweat as she murmured incoherently, while tears stained her cheeks.

"Wendy, what's happened to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching out to clutch her wrist. Her eyes snapped open when his fingers enclosed around her flesh.

"Peter?" He couldn't speak, his mouth hanging open, unable to form words. She looked wild, raw, passionate- _beautiful. _She took his silence as an agreement to her question.

"I knew you would come back, I just knew it," she smiled brightly, and the twinkle that had vanished for so many years returned to her eyes.

"Uh- Wendy-" a slim finger over his lips silenced him.

"Don't- don't ruin this, _please, _just-just hold me," she smiled again, this one more timid than before. Slightly was suddenly aware of the thin white nightgown she wore. How instead of swathing her as it had years before in Neverland, it clung to her figure, showing the curves she now possessed as a woman. Clearing his throat, he stepped close, and she lifted the duvet cover, allowing him entrance into her bed.

_Oh God, _he thought as he lay beside her in the bed, as she moulded herself to her side, her body soft and warm.

If he died right now, he would die a happy man.

"I always worried you would never come back- I never lost hope Peter, _never- _not even when my brothers forgot, not when my parents made me stay here, not even when Slightly lost faith," said boy fidgeted, the guilt racking his very being.

"But, I know what I want now Peter, I'm ready to grow up, I'm ready to say goodbye," she yawned, "ready to be free of this guilt of not loving you, like I did," she lay her head on his shoulder. She angled her head, so her lips brushed his earlobe, eliciting a shiver in response.

"So kiss me now, so I can let go, _finally_," Slightly squeaked, not knowing quite what to do. They lay in silence for a few moments, before he shifted, onto his hip, and gaze at her. Through the light of the moon streaming through the window, she looked ethereal, something from another world completely. Swallowing, he moved closer, placing a hand on her hip, and she gazed up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

"Do what you will," she whispered, bringing his head down, and pressed her lips to his in a kiss, and him being him, couldn't help return with sudden confidence.

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><p>She was sleeping soundly, her crisp white duvet pulled up now, around her body, not a sound coming from her. His fingers brushed her cheek one last time, before he got up, and left the room quietly without a word.<p>

Shuddering her tried to rid the image of her, smiling up at him with what he could describe as adoration in her eyes.

As he climbed back into his own bed, itching to run back down the hall, back into her embrace, he cursed Peter Pan for the millionth time in his lifetime.

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><p>He couldn't even look at her for weeks after.<p>

Couldn't bear to watch her doing even the smallest actions, turn the page of the newspaper she had started to read in attempt to relate to the people today, run her hand through her hair when it hung down into her eyes. Even a look from her made him think back to that night.

When he was walking home from a long day at school, with his uniform loosened; his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow, his two top buttons undone and his tie hanging loosely round his neck, in a way Aunt Millicent would surely disapprove of, he'd noticed her, sitting under a tree in Kensington Gardens, the wind picking up strands of her hair, eyes closed, simply breathing, and looking utterly content. He'd looked to the sky, noticed the clouds gathering and decided to wake her from her daydream.

He collapsed next to her, ridding himself of the heavy satchel, and her eyes slowly opened, her face breaking out into a smile.

"Slightly, a beautiful day, is it not, a beautiful day.." she murmured, and he returned the smile, and they slipped into conversation, as though their friendship was mending before their very eyes.

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><p>"Wendy? What are you doing!" Slightly bellowed from the doorway, as he watched her, twirling outside, the water soaking through her dress, which now stuck to her like a second skin.<p>

"Dancing!" She cried, laughing merrily, opening her arms wide.

"But you have no partner, and no music!" He laughed, shaking his head, pushing his auburn hair from his eyes.

"Join me, and we shall make our own music!" She smiled, beckoning him to her with alluring eyes and a finger.

He could never resist her, he thought as he stepped out of his shoes, and as barefooted as she, stepped out into rain, taking her waist, and waltzing her around the yard, while singing softly into her ear.

Aunt Millicent screamed so loudly when she saw her adopted son and niece soaking wet, with mud coating their feet, standing in the middle of her pastel pink parlour, both thought she would expload.

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><p>"I know it was you, Slightly," Wendy whispered, from her spot on his chest. He stiffened, sitting up quickly.<p>

They were sat under a tree in Kensington Gardens, months after what Slightly began to refer to as 'the incident'. It was Sunday, they had snuck out of the house while Aunt Millicent readied herself for the guests arriving in a few hours. In a simple white sundress, Slightly thought she looked like an angel, the colour highlighting the start contrast between her dark hair, which in the sun had highlights of red running through the strands. She was lay over his torso, curling into his side, while he lay against the base of the tree, idly playing with strands of her soft hair.

"What was me?" He asked, staring her in the eye, begging that his voice would not crack.

"It was you in my room, six months ago, I know it was, Slightly, and I'm not angry," he opened his mouth in an attempt to respond, redeem his actions, but she shook her head, silencing him, "or upset for that matter."

"But Wendy you-"

"I know, and I also wanted to thank you, Slightly, _you _helped me, and I cannot thank you enough. You opened my eyes to see a life past my stories and my childhood crush."

Slightly paused, then, taking a chance, pressed his lips to hers, as she had done to his months ago. He almost held his breath, readying himself to wrench herself from him, and run from the park screaming. He jolted, when he realised she returned the kiss, and tugged on the downy hairs at the nape of his neck.

He smiled against her lips, and for the first time in months, closed his eyes, and let go of all thoughts, and for the first time _ever, _sent up a thought of thanks to a boy who would never grow up.

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><p><strong>I know, I know, it wasn't PeterWendy, but don't hurt me. **

**I kinda like this pairing, it's cute, may work it into a story ;) **

**Au revior, SaffyM **


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